


Under His Skin

by stubliminalmessaging



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, M/M, There's smut, and it's really long for a me fic so, gge15, there's angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:16:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5449685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stubliminalmessaging/pseuds/stubliminalmessaging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey hadn’t been expecting to get picked up by a guy so soon after he’d leaned against the bar at a club in Boystown and ordered a beer. He also didn’t expect his first suitor to be such a stud and he briefly mourned the waste of the cover charge he’d paid to get in as he finished his first been and left with Ian the hot redheaded top after only twenty minutes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under His Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [romanticalgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/gifts).



> this is my contribution to the gallavich gift exchange this year - and i'm honestly so nervous because i wrote this for one of my faves, romanticalgirl. hope you like it, and happy holidays :)

                Mickey hadn’t been expecting to get picked up by a guy so soon after he’d leaned against the bar at a club in Boystown and ordered a beer. He also didn’t expect his first suitor to be such a stud and he briefly mourned the waste of the cover charge he’d paid to get in as he finished his first been and left with Ian the hot redheaded top after only twenty minutes.

 

                Mickey let Ian feel him up in the cab to his place and gave back as good as he got. Mickey groaned when he got a hand on Ian’s dick through his jeans because if it was anywhere near as big as it felt he was going to be in for a good night. Even if Ian was shit at using it, Mickey would gladly ride that dick until his heart gave out.

 

                They paid the slightly disturbed cab driver and hurried to the elevator where Ian pushed Mickey up against the cool metal wall and marked up his neck. When they reached Ian’s floor the door pinged open and Ian stepped back to pull Mickey out of the elevator and down the hall. Mickey’s head spun with arousal and his throat throbbed where Ian had been at it with his teeth.

 

                The first thing Mickey did when they got in Ian’s apartment was fumble with the other man’s pants to get properly acquainted with the bulge he’d felt up in the cab. It was just as impressive as it had felt and Mickey fell to his knees immediately. Ian slumped back against the wall in his foyer with a thump and let out a low cuss when Mickey’s tongue circled the head of his cock.

 

                Before long Ian was pushing at Mickey’s head and gasping that he needed to stop. This was fine with Mickey because he needed Ian’s cock in him like yesterday and was eager to move the proceedings along.

 

                They reached Ian’s bed and tumbled down onto it. Mickey started out on top but that didn’t last for long, since Ian seemed to be just as eager to get him naked and moaning as Mickey had been for him. A roll to the side and a few seconds of fumbling put Mickey under Ian sans pants and boxers and Ian was rolling him again to put him on his stomach.

 

                Mickey arched his back and pushed back against Ian when he started rimming him, letting out a ragged moan. His fingers bunched up the sheets under his hands and Ian’s dug in to the globes of Mickey’s ass, pulling him open while his tongue swirled and pushed to slicken and loosen Mickey’s hole.

 

                “Oh fuck,” Mickey breathed, leaning on one of his forearms so he could reach back and tangle his fingers in Ian’s hair, holding him still so he could grind his ass back against his mouth. “Oh, _fuck_ , Ian...”

 

                Ian kept this up for a few more moments until Mickey warned him breathlessly that he was going to come. Mickey let out a disappointed whine that he would deny ever making when Ian pulled back, placated somewhat when Ian’s slick fingers pushed into him. Before long Ian’s fingers weren’t enough and Mickey was practically sobbing for his cock and Ian obliged him, fumbling to roll on a rubber and pushing into Mickey.

 

                Once he was sheathed in Mickey’s body Ian only waited a beat before he started up a rough brutal rhythm, pushing Mickey up the bed with each thrust. Before Mickey’s head could bash against the headboard Ian got a firm grip on Mickey’s hips and held him still.

 

                Mickey came biting one of Ian’s pillows a few minutes later, making a mess of the sheets below him. He groaned bonelessly as Ian fucked him to completion, feeling used in the most delicious way.

 

                “Gonna need your number,” Mickey said after he’d caught his breath and lit a smoke. “Gonna need a repeat performance, just to make sure that shit was real.”

 

                Ian laughed and took the smoke from Mickey. “I think I can manage that.”

 

-

 

                “I’m not satisfied with your progress report, Gallagher,” Ian’s superior’s voice crackled over the phone line as he performed his weekly check-in. “It’s been two and a half months. How do you have _nothing_?”

 

                “He’s more guarded than anyone thought he would be,” Ian replied. He scratched at the upholstery of the couch, thinking idly of how his boss had bought it all for him and how it was temporary.

 

                “I put you on this case because this is your specialty, and you always complete your missions quickly,” he said and Ian could hear the challenge laid down in that comment.

 

                “He’s a different kind of animal than any of my other cases were,” Ian said in his own defense. “He just wants sex from me, not a relationship, and _definitely_ not sharing and secrets.”

 

                “It sounds like you need to go in for the long haul,” Ian’s boss advised, which had been Ian’s intention anyways. “Get under his skin, past his walls, whatever romantic bullshit it takes to get the intel from him. We _need_ to bring the Milkoviches down before Terry can go ghost again.” Ian could practically hear the narrowed eyes in his boss’ voice and rolled his own skyward. “Are you willing to get that involved with this guy?”

 

                “I can keep my distance and act like I’m all in, if that’s what you’re doubting,” Ian snapped. “The mark is a good lay, but he’s a total douchebag. I would never develop feelings for him – _could not_. It’s completely professional on my end and it _always_ will be.”

 

                “Good,” his superior said. “With how young and inexperienced you are, I really went out on a limb putting you on this job, Gallagher. Don’t make me regret it.”

 

                “You won’t, sir,” Ian promised and he intended to make good on it.

 

-

 

                _u alone right now?_ Ian texted, hoping to get in some time getting closer to his mark... and maybe reaping the benefits of trying to pry secrets from a guy who sucks dick like Ian could come gold.

 

                _no. fuck off_ was Mickey’s response which immediately sent up red flags in Ian’s head. Why wasn’t he alone? Was he lying? Was he meeting up with his family? Were they planning some huge gang operation right then? All Ian could think of to do was show up at Mickey’s place under the guise of an evening booty call and hope to catch him in the act. Ian quickly googled transit times to Mickey’s place and set off.

 

                Ian showed up at Mickey’s place twenty minutes later with a bug in the button on his shirt and buzzed up to Mickey’s apartment. Mickey sounded irritated when he answered and so Ian poured on the charm.

 

                “Look, man, this isn’t a good time,” Mickey hissed even after Ian made his filthy intentions pretty clear.

 

                Ian was going to argue when he heard a woman’s voice come through on the line. “Who calls you?”

 

                Mickey argued with the woman a bit and Ian stood there in silence, trying to get a read on the woman through the phone. Was she a Milkovich? Mickey’s file said his mother was dead, but he did have one sister and a half sister that they knew of, so perhaps it was one of them. This woman sounded like an adult, with a thick Slavic accent, and the half sister was only a teenager, but the full sister was only a year or two younger than Mickey according to the file.

 

                “Is that the guy you’ve been seeing?” asked a different woman’s voice and Ian yearned to get upstairs and find out who these people were.

 

                “Fuck off Mandy,” Mickey spat. “I fucking told you I’m not seeing anyone.” That hurt a bit, to be a secret, but then Ian thought of what he was going to eventually have to do to Mickey and being a secret lover didn’t seem so bad when he thought about it. He knew now that one of the women was Mickey’s sister Mandy, so he forced himself to focus on that. Who was the other woman?

 

                The arguing continued and Ian only listened to it for a moment before he spotted someone moving out of the corner of his eye and he hung up the receiver and tailgated into the building after another resident. He took the stairs up to the third floor and walked to the end of the hall where Mickey’s apartment was. He knocked and there was more arguing from behind the door before it swung open by not Mickey, but a stern looking woman in her early thirties with her lips pursed. She looked Ian up and down like he was something foul she’d stepped in, and didn’t so much as budge when Mickey told her to move so he could talk to Ian. She stepped back in her own time and let Mickey shove past her and push Ian out into the hallway. He closed the door in her face and rounded on Ian.

 

                “What part of ‘not a good time’ did you not fucking understand?” Mickey snarled.

 

                “Who’s that woman?” Ian asked, ignoring Mickey’s question and caging Mickey in against the wall beside the door with his body.

 

                “My casual fuckbuddy doesn’t get to know that kinda shit. And he doesn’t _ask_ if he wants to stay my casual fuckbuddy,” Mickey told him, voice low and dangerous in a way that turned Ian on more than a little. It was hard for Mickey not to notice given that Ian was pressed against him and when Mickey scowled up at him Ian smirked and ground his cock against Mickey’s abdomen.

 

                “Get off of me, you fucking animal,” he spat, pushing Ian off him and pacing a little in front of his door. He turned on his heel and pointed at Ian. “You gotta leave. I got somethin’ real private happening right now and the guy who’s been puttin’ his dick in me these days don’t have no place in it.”

 

                “Private? Try to sound a little more sketchy, Mick,” Ian said, keeping his grin up while on the inside he was scrambling for an excuse to go inside and bust whatever scheme was being hatched in that apartment.

 

                “Alright, not private. _Family_ ,” Mickey said, which of course made Ian even more suspicious. “You’re not privy to that shit yet and if I can have it my way you won’t ever be.” Oh, that wasn’t ominous. Not at all. “If you want some ass so bad come by after dinner tonight. I’ll text you.”

 

                “Nah,” Ian said after a moment’s consideration. He’d planned on staking out in the coffee shop across the street from Mickey’s building and watching to see if any people matching the pictures in the Milkoviches’ file left the building. That might not work however, given that the criminal members of the family were crafty enough to have found a back entrance to avoid this kind of thing, so he threw that plan out the window and shoved the door of Mickey’s apartment open and barged in before Mickey could stop him.

 

                Instead of the table full of rough looking Milkovich men that Ian expected to see there were only three people in the apartment – the woman who had scrutinized Ian at the door, a woman around Ian’s age with black hair and a nose ring who looked too much like Mickey not to be related to him, and a baby crawling around on a mat on the floor.

 

                Ian stared at the baby. “Is he-“

 

                “Mine? Yes,” Mickey growled, shouldering past Ian to stand between him and the others. “This one?” he pointed to the woman Ian assumed was related to him. “My _sister_. And her?” he pointed to the other woman. “She’s my _wife_. You happy now? You barged in on my sketchy family and invaded my fucking privacy, so now that you know my fucking secrets, can you get the fuck out?”

 

                Ian couldn’t form words just then but the weighted silence was filled when Mickey’s sister asked. “Now that the cat’s out of the bag, why doesn’t he stay for dinner?”

 

                “Wh – no. No fuckin’ way, Mandy,” Mickey insisted. “He’s been here too long already.”

 

                “What more harm can him staying for dinner do?” Mandy asked. “He’s already here, he already knows.” The baby on the floor looked up from his play, as if just noticing Ian, and squealed. “Look, Yev even likes your boy. He’s gotta stay now.”

 

                “Yev does that with everybody,” Mickey grumbled, but Ian could see that he was softening up under the pressure of his sister and, to a lesser degree, his wife. He got no reaction from anyone in the room arguing his side so he threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine! He can stay for dinner! He’s only some random who came here for a fucking booty call but whatever, guess he’s part of the fucking clan now!” Mickey continued ranting even as he stalked across the room and out onto the tiny balcony to have a smoke.

 

                If you had told Ian Gallagher that he would spend that evening hanging out with his fuckbuddy’s family (and not even the mob kind) while said fuckbuddy sulked in the corner and occasionally went out for a grumpy smoke break then he would have laughed in your face. And yet there he was, crawling around on the floor with Mickey’s son while his sister and his wife sat at the kitchen table watching him and shooting each other knowing looks.

 

                Dinner happened and Mandy and Svetlana were perfectly happy to eat and use dishes but as soon as it came time to do the washing up suddenly Yevgeny needed to go home for his bath and to get to sleep and they packed up his things lightning speed and took off before Mickey could even finish running a sink full of water for the dishes. Mickey huffed at the girls but Ian felt positively charmed and he even gave Yev a kiss to the soft downy hair on the top of his head as Svetlana carried him out the door.

 

                If you told Ian Gallagher that he would go to Mickey Milkovich’s apartment for a booty call and would end up hanging out with his family, playing with his boy, and then staying at his place for the night and not even fucking him, he would definitely have questioned your mental stability while he laughed in your face. But he did. He sat up eating popcorn and watching movies with Mickey and they fell asleep curled up together on a too-small couch and they _didn’t even fuck_.

 

                Ian couldn’t tell if this was a step forward or a step back.

 

-

 

                “It’s been six months, Gallagher,” Ian’s boss said and Ian could tell by his tone that he was losing his patience.

 

                “I know how long it’s been. I know how a calendar works,” Ian grumbled, regretting it almost immediately when he heard the huff his superior let out. He resolved not to talk out of turn again and risk getting in trouble any more than he already was. “And in my defense, my mark is probably the Milkovich least involved in the family business.” With the exception of his baby, Ian thought as an afterthought.

 

                “That’s a recent change of heart then,” Ian’s boss said thoughtfully. Ian remembered; Mickey’s file had all kinds of priors related to his family’s organized crime group. Ian would almost be willing to bet that ‘recent’ was actually ‘within the last two years’ because that’s when his son was born. “Maybe having you on the case is pointless then, if your mark isn’t connected to the family anymore.”

 

                Ian tried not to betray his distress at that possibility, trying to remain cool. “He’s a sketchy guy, probably knows at least a little. Plus he used to be neck deep in the business so he’s gotta have something I can bust him on and maybe blackmail him into giving us the intel.”

 

                “Well you’d better get looking then agent, because you’re running out of time. Word on the street says that Terry and his boys are brewing up for something big in the next few months and we _have_ to shut it down before they have a chance to get it off the ground,” Ian’s boss threatened. “Break into his place, hack his computer, screen his mail, tap his phone; I don’t care _what_ you do, just _do_ it. Whatever you have to, to get the intel we need.”

 

                “He’s really guarded and careful,” Ian said, thinking of how paranoid he had been about Ian meeting his family a few weeks ago. “I just need more time.”

 

                He could hear his boss scrubbing at his face even through the phone. “That’s one of the few resources we are in short supply of, agent.”

 

                “I know,” Ian replied, thinking about where he’d stashed his lockpicking supplies when he’d packed for this assignment.

 

-

 

                Breaking into Mickey’s apartment had been easier than Ian had expected it would be. He just waited until Mickey left for work in the morning, loitered around the front door until he could get in on the tail of another resident, then picked the lock on Mickey’s place. Easy and definitely free of conflicting feelings.

 

                Ian figured that if there was any way to get dirt on Mickey and his family he would have done it and that this would be his last resort.

 

                A quick sweep of Mickey’s apartment yielded nothing of interest beyond a few sex toys that Ian would definitely have to accidentally uncover some time when they were gonna hook up. Even if they didn’t use them, the flushing and stammering and defensiveness Mickey would probably exude would be worth it.

 

                Mickey had a locked filing cabinet in the corner of the spare room that was promising. It had been on Ian’s list of things to look closer at since the first time Ian had been to his apartment before the first few times it had been locked but Mickey had always been there with him so he hadn’t had a window to look any closer, much less break in to it. It turned out that the locked room was Yev’s nursery which Mickey had been trying to hide from him, so that mystery was recently solved, but the filing cabinet was still in the forefront of Ian’s mind so as soon as he finished giving Mickey’s place the once-over, he made a beeline for it.

 

                Ian kneeled on the floor beside the cabinet and gave it a quick look, before he got out his tools and got to work picking the lock. It didn’t take him long to get the drawers open, only ten minutes or so, and he cursed when he found two drawers empty and the other one only containing only paperwork regarding Yevgeny’s health and some things about Mickey’s lease. There was some immigration paperwork too, copies of Svetlana’s papers, but nothing beyond that.

 

                He tapped around for secret panels in the cabinet and in the wall behind it but it seemed to be a completely normal filing cabinet with completely normal boring paperwork in it. Ian closed it, locked it again, and he was just on his way out of the spare room when Mickey appeared in the doorway, holding a gun trained on Ian. Ian barely remembered to tense up and act like he was afraid of the gun, and he almost reached for his own sidearm, even though it wasn’t on him just then.

 

                “Jesus, fuck Gallagher,” Mickey sighed, lowering his weapon as soon as he saw who it was. “The fuck’re you doing here? How’d you get in?”

 

                “Why the fuck do you have a gun, Mickey?” Ian asked, as if that was his biggest concern. He was mostly glad Mickey hadn’t come home two minutes earlier and caught him snooping through his boring paperwork.

 

                “I got a kid to protect, a psychotic father I’m trying to stay away from, and apparently a stupid motherfucker of a fuckbuddy who likes breaking into peoples’ apartments,” Mickey commented. “You pick my lock?”

 

                “Can you blame me?” Ian asked, though his grin was cheeky now that Mickey had put the gun down. “You keep everything so close to your chest; I couldn’t think of any other way of getting to know you than breaking in to your place and snooping through your shit.”

 

                “Is that so? You find anything interesting?” Mickey scoffed, though it was clear that he wasn’t mad at Ian, just a little annoyed maybe.

 

                “As a matter of fact,” Ian began, smirking externally and internally when he thought about how this was the exact direction he wanted the conversation to take. “I was a bit curious about when you were gonna tell me about the sex toys in the bottom of your closet.” Ian delighted in the flush covering Mickey’s face at that.

 

                Mickey completely forgot about how Ian had broken into his place after Ian worked his thick black toy into him and he completely forgot his name when Ian turned on the vibrator with the switch on the base.

 

-

 

                “Clearly something isn’t working, Gallagher,” Ian’s boss starts and Ian cuts him off before he can hand down what would feel like a death sentence.

 

                “I can _do_ this,” Ian insisted. “I just need a little more time-“

 

                “It’s been _nearly a year_ ,” his boss says, cutting him off, and Ian nearly scoffs because it’s only been ten months. “The family is gearing up for something big; it’s all our underworld connections are talking about. I don’t _have_ more time to give you, Gallagher. Your assignment’s done – we’re reassigning you.”

 

                “So this was all for nothing?” Ian asked, grasping at straws in his own head, any excuse to draw out his assignment and stay with Mickey for even just a little bit longer. “You said it yourself – ten months, and you’re just going to pull me off it when I’m _so close_?”

 

                “Close to what? You haven’t got anything, agent. No suspicions, no evidence, _nothing_.” His boss sniffed in a deep breath. “You better not have ulterior motives for wanting to stay on this case.”

 

                “With all due respect sir, what is that supposed to mean?” Ian asked, struggling to keep himself in check and resist being rude.

 

                “I think your acting got a little too _method_ – that you got too close to your mark and now you’ve got feelings for him,” Ian’s boss said and Ian sputtered to argue while his boss went on. “This is always a possibility in these kinds of cases and the risk was even bigger with how inexperienced you are. I shouldn’t have put you on a case like this so early in your career. Best thing to do now is ship you off somewhere else and give you a chance to lick your wounds and hopefully salvage your reputation.”

 

                Ian could barely resist defending himself from the handful of slights upon his good name in that little speech but he carried the argument on instead. “One more chance, sir. A _week_ , and if I don’t have anything to report to you by then you can pull me off it and reassign me.” His boss didn’t argue so Ian kept pleading his case. “I just feel like I’m close to something _big_.”

 

                His superior heaved a sigh and Ian knew then that he’d won. A week wasn’t much time – he probably expected Ian to bid for _months_. “Fine. A week. I’ll call you again at this time seven days from now and you’d better have something for me or I’ll be shipping you out within the hour.”

 

                “Of course, sir. Thank you for the opportunity,” Ian said and he was about to hang up when his boss spoke again.

 

                “I swear to God Gallagher, if you’re only stringing me along for another week with your boy or so that you can run away with him or something, I will make sure you never work another case again,” his boss promised. “It’ll look bad for you, but it’ll look _worse_ for me. If you’re running some scheme I’ll have you demoted to some miserable station in Antarctica for at least the next forty years.”

 

                “Yes, sir. I have no intention of doing either of those things, sir.” Ian said firmly and his boss hung up on him after one more threat. _A week_ , he’d said in parting. _Don’t let him get under your skin_. Ian would have assured him that he wouldn’t if his boss had stayed on the line two seconds longer.

 

                He technically wasn’t lying when he’d said he wouldn’t. He wasn’t lying because he already _had_ and there wasn’t much further he could fall.

 

-

 

                They kissed now – an addition to their sex that made the blood sing in Ian’s veins. They kissed and they held each other and they fucked face to face and... it wasn’t _fucking_ , not  anymore. They _made love_ face to face and Ian could see Mickey’s expression and the vulnerability in his face and he calmed him, soothed him when Mickey moved to avert his gaze.

 

                There had been a build-up and a break in their interactions. Ian had finally succeeded in hounding Mickey to the point where he yelled and carried on and nearly cried in his frustration. Ian thought he was going to get dumped right then and there but for whatever reason Mickey didn’t – he just started blurting things out. Memories of his family, of his childhood; of his mother and his sister and finally how his son had come to be. Some of the memories were happy and some were sad and some were so tender and raw that Ian could see Mickey’s pain like he was pressing on a fresh wound.

 

                (He never even mentioned his shady criminal past or that of his family but Ian didn’t pry even though he should have. He was beyond pretending he was still that concerned about using Mickey to bust his father. The mission and his objectives completely disappeared from his mind the second he laid eyes on Mickey these days and he hoped he could draw it out as long as possible... or until he came up with some way to make this his life indefinitely.)

 

                After the first emotional outburst things had gotten infinitely better. Ian spent almost a whole week staying over at Mickey’s place and held him through the night every night of it. They parted only for Mickey to go to work and for Ian to pretend to work while he actually staked out a house across town where there’d been some suspicious Milkovich activity spotted a week ago. He didn’t see anything all day – not so much as a light turned on inside, filtering through the threadbare curtains – and about an hour after Mickey finished work each day he would head back to Mickey’s place and pick up dinner on the way. They ate dinner and watched TV and had a couple beers before they went to bed and usually had sex and it was one such time when Mickey surprised Ian and changed his life forever.

 

                They stepped out of the shower and tumbled right into bed, getting the sheets wet and cold but far from caring as they got their hands all over each other. They rolled over each other, grappling and gasping out laughter and curses until Mickey was on top and they were both short of breath and shiny-eyed.

 

                Their roughhousing got a lot less playful and a lot more sexually charged when Mickey held Ian’s wrists down and ground his ass against Ian’s erection. Ian writhed beneath him and pushed up against him, bracing his feet against the mattress. Mickey rode Ian’s struggling movements and didn’t allow himself to be bucked off, smirking down at Ian even as he panted.

 

                “Gonna ride me, _boyfriend_?” Ian asked, emphasizing their newly discussed status and rutting against Mickey’s ass as firmly as he could.

 

                “What if I fucking am?” Mickey asked, arching his back to show off his muscles as he rode Ian’s hips. Being fresh out of the shower they were both wet and naked and Ian had fingered Mickey in the shower so he was open for him already. It would be so easy for him to just sink down and fill himself up with Ian’s cock, but he held off. He smirked as Ian struggled harder, rubbing off against the underside of Mickey’s thigh and occasionally his ass.

 

                Ian finally got fed up with Mickey’s teasing and put an end to it, bucking his hips hard and knocking Mickey off balance. He took advantage of Mickey’s moment of weakness and rolled them over, keeping an arm braced around Mickey’s hips to cradle him while they rolled. Once he had Mickey firmly under him Ian wasted no time in sparing one hand to hold his cock by the base and press it into Mickey’s yielding body.

 

                Mickey’s struggles stopped when Ian started pushing into him, his hands scrambling to get a grip on his broad shoulders and his blunt nails digging into Ian’s skin and leaving little crescent shaped indents in their wake. His strong thighs squeezed Ian’s hips and he felt like the breath was being squeezed out of him, though it was not Mickey’s constricting hold that was making him feel that way. Every little jostle of their bodies pushed Ian’s cock deeper into Mickey and shifted the angle of it, making Mickey twitch and squirm.

 

                Ian only got to pause and collect himself for a moment before Mickey’s heels were digging into the flesh of his ass and he’d moved a hand up to tangle in the longer part of Ian’s hair, wordlessly spurring him on. He obliged without a word, holding Mickey down against the bed and fucking him senseless.

 

                They moved close together; contact intimate, eyes locked, breaths mingling. Tears shimmered at the corners of Mickey’s eyes and Ian was completely unprepared for what he said next.

 

                “I... think I love you,” Mickey breathed, sounding so small and vulnerable that it gave Ian pause. Instead he rolled his hips more languidly, creating a less brutal rhythm. He watched Mickey writhe beneath him, and though his face was turned to the side to hide his raw expression, Ian saw a flash of it and watched as his flush crept down his neck, red all the way to his collarbones.

 

                “Fuck, I love you too,” Ian gasped, hiking Mickey’s legs up further and holding him down to fuck him harder, trying to make Mickey _understand_ , to transfer his feelings through their bodies and fill him up with adoration.

 

                They fucked feverishly after that, bruising and scratching and biting each other as they grasped and pulled and clutched at one another. Ian collapsed on top of Mickey after they finished, careless of the mess on Mickey’s abdomen even as he pressed his front into it. This was another marked change in their usual sexual encounters – Mickey always grumbled and pushed at him and kept his distance. This time he was practically clinging to Ian, almost desperate to draw out their intimacy.

 

                (If he’d been thinking with his Spy Head he would have congratulated himself on such a huge step forward in getting past Mickey’s walls. He hadn’t been thinking with his Spy Head in _months_.)

 

                When he thought about his secret identity and the mission he was supposed to be completing he felt a stab of guilt in his gut. It got worse when he looked down at the man in bed with him, soft and quiet as he watched Ian get up and get rid of the condom, pulling on his arm to coax him into being the big spoon when he returned to bed. Ian kissed at the nape of Mickey’s neck and listened to his breathing even out. When he was certain Mickey was asleep based on his breathing and the lax hold he had on Ian’s hand and arm, he promised himself he would tell Mickey about his secret identity in the morning. There was no reason to wake him up and ruin what had been a perfect night when he could do it just as well in the morning.

 

-

 

                He didn’t fall asleep for hours after Mickey passed out, which was why he’d slept in and only woke up when his phone rang from his jeans on the floor for the hundredth time, blearily noting his empty bed. He groaned and stretched as his phone stopped ringing, and the caller recorded what would be their thirteenth voicemail. He crawled to the edge of the bed and reached to pull his balled-up jeans closer to him, where he found his boxers tangled up in the legs and his phone in the pocket. He sat up and tugged on his boxers and swiped to unlock his phone, getting to his feet and wandering to his kitchen while he listened to the first voicemail waiting for him.

 

                The first message was from his boss, reminding him that he had to call the next day to report his progress. His boss launched into another daunting near-threat that this would be his _last_ progress report and that if he didn’t have anything conclusive, he would be pulled off the case. He ignored the end of the message in favour of reading the note that Mickey had left on his fridge informing him that Mickey had to head back to his place to change and shower before work. He smiled fondly at the way Mickey called him a lowlife hippie for not having regular work hours like a normal fucking human being, before the first message ended and Ian deleted it, moving on to the next one.

 

                His boss’ voice came over the line again, this time sounding slightly hysterical – in excitement or terror Ian didn’t know until he focused more on the words and less on the tone of his boss’ voice.

 

                “Milkovich slipped up,” his boss began over the line. “He let his guard down; got sloppy. An agent was able to tail him to the warehouse where he’s been doing his dealings and we were able to seize him and two of his sons as well as a shipping container full of contraband.” His boss paused, audibly out of breath, before he continued. “The case is closed, agent. You’re off the hook for the Milkovich kid, and you’ve already been reassigned. Call me back for the details of your reassignment.” The click on the other end of the line felt like the final nail in his coffin, or so Ian thought until he listened to the other messages.

 

                Cold dread spread through him as he listened to his boss trying to get ahold of him again and again, each time becoming more impatient to receive Ian’s reply until finally the phone rang against his ear as he was listening to the third to last message. He nearly dropped it, cursing as he fumbled to swipe across the screen and answer it. “Sir?”

 

                “Gallagher. Where are you? Are you alright? Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Ian’s boss asked and he had to rush to explain.

 

                “I was asleep,” he explained. “Sorry, I was up late last night making the most of the last hours of this mission.”

 

                “Well it doesn’t matter anymore because the case is closed. The Milkoviches are in our possession with a massive amount of evidence to back up the arrest,” his boss explained and Ian nearly hung up on him in his panic to do _something_ ; to call Mickey even just to hear his voice for the last time, to rush to his work to see him again, _anything_. But then his boss said his name, tone irritated which made Ian think he’d been addressing him already to no reply. “The car should be at your apartment any minute now. It’s good that you woke up when you did or the driver would be knocking on your door and dragging you from your bed.”

 

                “The driver?” Ian asked, breath catching in his throat as he put it together. “Not yet, I need to-“

 

                “No,” Ian’s boss said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “You had a year and some change to complete this mission and you didn’t but someone else did so consider it a job well done and _move on_.”

 

                “I will, just let me-“

 

                “ _No_.” Ian bit his lip and scowled, already thinking about fire exits and side doors to sneak out of the building and avoid the driver to see Mickey again, maybe convince him to run away somewhere with him. To some big city, where the people swarm so thick they can just blend into the crowd where no one can find them. Not Ian’s boss, not Mickey’s family. Ian’s boss’ assertive voice brought him back to the conversation at hand. “Don’t fight me on this, Gallagher. You need to grow up and go where you’re told and do as you’re assigned.” Ian thought about arguing but his boss’ next comment had his words dying in his throat before he could get any out. “He’s not worth losing your job over, Gallagher. Desertion would make you a criminal and there is no other way for this to go your way.”

 

                _He is_ , Ian thought vehemently but his spirits wilted with the reminder of the consequences. He mumbled some affirmatives to his boss before he hung up and he only had a few minutes to wait before the text came telling him that the driver was waiting in front of the building. He could have spent the time contacting Mickey or writing him a note or something but instead Ian spent it staring at his phone, specifically at his home screen photo, which was one of Mickey asleep on his couch with Yev curled up asleep on his chest. The couch would be moved out of his apartment, along with everything else he’s accumulated over the past year, all the parts of his little life here.

 

                He didn’t think about calling or texting Mickey until he was waiting at the airport an hour later, tapping his foot while he waited to board. He gasped, as if he’d been doused in ice water, and fumbled to get his phone out of his pocket. He scrolled through the contacts and nearly started crying when he found it empty, and when he tried to get a dial tone all he got was a dead line. His boss had been serious about not giving him a choice – it had barely been an hour since they spoke and he’d already deactivated Ian’s phone.

 

                The crackly announcement calling for Ian’s flight to board drifted through the busy airport then, and so he shuffled sullenly to his gate without so much as a backwards glance to say goodbye to Chicago. The only thing he wanted to bid goodbye to didn’t even know he was leaving and would never get an explanation as to why.

 

-

 

                Mickey’s life had become ridiculously routine and he couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad about it. He woke, he worked a legitimate job that didn’t involve dealing drugs or breaking someone’s kneecaps, he returned home and wasted the rest of his day with his son until he was tired and then he went to sleep, only to repeat it again a few hours later. He felt all too adult for his twenty six years and like he had his shit weirdly together.

 

                He’d resigned himself to the fact that the year he’d been with Ian would probably just be a blip in the lifetime of back-alley fucks and pretending to be straight he was destined to live out. He could handle that; he’d _been_ handling it for the decade or so he’d been doing it before he’d met Ian. He could handle it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t bitter about it. It had been more than he’d ever thought he’d have, more than he’d ever deserved, and after a little over a year and a half after him disappearing (not that Mickey’s been keeping track) Mickey was mostly at peace with it. (Or so he told himself.)

 

                Mandy texted him one evening telling him that she’d be over with Yev in like half an hour. He took one look in his fridge and knew that he needed to go grocery shopping soon (so much for being an adult) and looked at the menu stuck to the fridge for the number to order pizza. He got an ETA of forty minutes or so from the girl at the pizza place and so he opened a beer and sat down in front of the TV for a few minutes while he waited for either his family or his pizza to arrive.

 

                He must have lost track of time because before he knew it there was a knock at his door. Mandy generally didn’t knock and Yev was loud and talkative so Mickey could always hear him talking to Mandy through the door so that meant that it had to be the pizza. Mickey grabbed his wallet off the counter on his way to the door and slid two twenties out, ready to exchange the money for food with as little conversation as possible.

 

                “Keep the-“ Mickey meant t finish that with ‘change’ as he swung open the door but his eyes fell on the person at his door and he dropped his cash and his wallet as his words died in his throat.

 

                Ian shifted his bag across his shoulders, clearly nervous, and looked down at the items Mickey had dropped. He furrowed his eyebrows. “You were expecting someone?” Mickey gawked at him and Ian hurried to carry on, eager to say what he had to say before Mickey’s brain caught up and he was inevitably cut off. “I _love_ you, Mickey. I have a shitload of explaining to do, and I’m sorry I fucked off for so long, but _I love you_.”

 

                The slap Mickey dealt him hit him before he saw it, stinging pain lancing across his cheek. He lifted a hand up to touch the tender hot skin and gaped at Mickey.

 

                “Damn fuckin’ right you have some explaining to do,” Mickey huffed, grabbing Ian by the sleeve of his jacket and pulling him into the apartment, slamming the door behind him. “A year and a half and all you can say is about how you fucking love me?”

 

                “Just being honest,” Ian said with a smirk right before Mickey shoved him up against the inside of his door and kissed him hard.


End file.
